


recovery.

by Sleepy_Eyes



Category: The Evil Within
Genre: M/M, also Joseph's family, mentions of Myra and Lilly, mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal behavior and thoughts, others from the precinct make an appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_Eyes/pseuds/Sleepy_Eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to the land of the living was a long road traveled for Joseph, but the process doesn't end at merely living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.0

**Author's Note:**

> \- Following a larger concept of mine that may or may not be dictated in written form. The context from it isn't too necessary for this fic, though. Rating subject to change.

"You can stay with me," Sebastian had said softly, voice faintly strained, face so close Joseph could feel his breath. "You can’t get through this alone. You don’t _have_ to.”

He had a hand alongside Joseph’s neck and head, fingers curled into his hair, thumb on his jaw. His normally warm skin felt chilled against Joseph’s pulse. Joseph closed his eyes and breathed.

In his delirium Joseph had trouble following the order of events, of the words that were said, but he knew that Sebastian had shown up in the motel room he’d been assigned since his apartment wasn’t his anymore, had taken away the gun Joseph barely remembered holding, had corralled him away from the tub, out of the bathroom, had somehow gotten pills to Joseph’s hands that found their way to his mouth and down his throat, and then after a few more dazed moments standing still in the middle of the room, reality had caught up with Joseph with a roaring in his ears and a churn of his stomach. He panicked.

Not even a full week into being formally back among the living and not helplessly compelled to trek halfway across the county and Joseph had nearly thrown away all the effort put into keeping him alive, into getting him his life back, and he hadn’t even needed to think about it. He hadn’t needed a reason. Awash in sounds without sources and distorted vision and a faint but persistent nausea, it had been like getting up to look in a fridge despite not being hungry or any of the other pointless compulsive actions people do when they’re bored. It had been like instinct. It had been like what his father must have gone through.

“Shit… _shit_ , Sebastian, what did I do?” he said aloud, breath coming in gasps and heart jumping painfully in his chest. “I’m supposed to be okay, I have- I _have_ to be okay!”

His throat choked any more coherency from his voice; he was crying, his already blurry vision taking on that particular watery quality, his face getting hot, and he couldn’t stop the tight hunch of his shoulders.

He didn’t notice Sebastian cross the room, but he couldn’t really miss the very tight hug he found himself engulfed in, arms somewhat awkwardly caught between himself and Sebastian’s chest. Before he could try to free them, Sebastian started using his hold on Joseph to guide him across the room, like how he’d led Joseph from the bathroom but much less frantically. Joseph felt something bump against his shins - the bed? -, and then Sebastian was letting him go. “Lay down,” he said, voice rough.

Joseph blinked, but complied, gingerly lowering himself to the mattress. The disconnect from his body had ceased and he was aware once more of how every muscle ached, and his head felt like it was full of water; he frowned and swallowed back the faint taste of bile the sudden dizziness brought. He more or less dropped the last few inches, grimacing against how it made his stomach churn. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting to happen next, but it probably wasn’t for Sebastian to lay down on his side in front of him, placing a hand on the side of his head, gently urging him to breathe and to move in with him.

So it went.

Joseph exhaled slowly. He considered making an effort to turn down the offer, but it was pointless and he knew it. He wanted to, no matter the shitty context he wanted to, and he didn’t want to think what it’d do to Sebastian to hear Joseph try to claim he didn’t need him now, after everything.

His face still felt hot from crying. He cleared his throat. “Alright.”

Sebastian all but deflated as some of the tension left him, the hand resting heavier on Joseph’s neck. “Alright… Alright. Good.” Joseph wondered if Seb knew that his thumb was stroking Joseph’s cheek or if it was just involuntary. “That’s… good.” He glanced away, “God knows I could use help right now, too.”

Joseph nodded weakly, and frowned, blinking blearily. He had no idea why he suddenly felt so tired or how he could possibly be falling asleep after all this, but it was hard to keep his eyes open.

Sebastian watched him for a moment, face unreadable. “You go ahead and sleep, I’m not going anywhere.” he murmured. “I’ll have some calls to make once you’re out, but…”

Joseph nodded again, or thought he did, and let his eyes fall shut.


	2. .05

The chief hadn’t even hesitated to call ahead to tell the front desk of the motel to give Sebastian a key to Joseph’s room, and he wasn’t sure if that said more about how everyone knew what kind of mental state Joseph must be in, or more about how incandescently pissed Sebastian must have sounded when he asked what the hell they were thinking putting him in a shitty little room by himself after everything he’d been through.

Regardless, it took every ounce of his control not to snatch the key right out of the lady at the counter’s hand as soon as it was within arm’s reach, and he took the stairs up two at a time.

Logically, he didn’t have a reason to be so frantic yet, but he kept seeing blood spattered on walls or cold bodies in tubs by empty pill bottles or even just his partner curled in on himself in the dark, scared of shadows, and he’d already waited too long to see him, he knew that, the potential consequences of his hesitation made him sick and kept him up at night. He’d already twice lost Joseph to waiting, only to get him back by some fathomless grace he didn’t deserve; he couldn’t take having the ground dropped out from under him again.

He knocked on the door, shuffling restlessly in place. No response. “Joseph?” he called, feeling his racing heart crawl its way into his throat. “It’s Sebastian!”

Still nothing. Fuck.

He swore viciously at the key and the lock and his own shaking hands and it took too long to get the door unlocked but eventually the handle turned and he flung it open, leaving the key where it was. He scanned the room; no Joseph where he could see him, and no lights were on, but the bathroom door was open.

Swallowing his heart, Sebastian padded forward. He thought, if Joseph is in there with a gun the last thing he needed was Sebastian barreling in. He thought, if I walk in there and see a body, that’s it. That’s it. No more. He thought, I’m scared as hell, I don’t want to see anything, I don’t want to walk into that room.

He padded forward, stomach dropping through the floor as he rounded the door frame and saw. His feet went from carpet to tile.

Joseph was sat on the edge of the tub, eyes vacant, arm crooked at the elbow, holding a gun to his head. He hadn’t acknowledged Sebastian yet, and something was wrong, not like the gun wasn’t a clue.

"Joseph." Sebastian heard his own voice like it was coming from somewhere else. Sebastian sank to his knees, supporting himself on the sink. "Joseph…" He swallowed. " _Don’t_ …”

Joseph’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t look up. “Seb?” he said, voice slurred. His skin was pale and had a sheen of sweat, like he had a fever. Something was _wrong_. “What are you… doing here?”

Sebastian swallowed again; it was hard to breathe, his heart felt like it was going to explode, but he had to stay calm, at least on the outside. “I came to see you,” He managed, voice shaking just a little around what a weak understatement it was. He felt a painful lurch of hope as the hand holding the gun lowered to lie limply on Joseph’s lap, the gun still resting on the palm. “Joseph… give me that gun.”

A crease formed between Joseph’s brows. “Oh… yeah.” He held it out vaguely, and Sebastian snatched it away, removing the clip with practiced speed and putting the gun and clip in the sink away from him. His adrenaline was spiking now and he could feel it wanting to turn into anger. He looked at Joseph sitting numbly on the edge of the tub and felt a strong urge to slap him, shake him, _anything_ to snap him out of whatever fit he was in, but he bit it back, instead grabbing Joseph by the upper arms and - carefully - hauling him to his feet and out of the bathroom. He was limp and compliant the whole way. 

Sebastian brought him to what was roughly the middle of the room, letting him go to hunt around for the medication he knew Joseph had been prescribed. He’d been there, had overheard enough to understand it was some sort of anti-psychotic or something, meant to help with the hallucinating and the seizures. It came alongside something for anxiety and something else for sleep, but those weren’t needed right now. He found the pills quickly enough, sitting openly on top of the motel dresser. He picked them up and immediately scowled, shooting Joseph a look.

"You haven’t even _opened_ them?!”

Joseph didn’t seem to hear him; he was standing in the middle of the room loosely gripping one arm with a crease between his brows like he was confused how he got there. Sebastian made a face, turning back to the pill bottle to read the instructions, having to read the same line twice as his eyes seemed to keep sliding off the words. He popped the bottle open with probably more force than was necessary, shaking out two pills.

He strode over to Joseph, snatching up one of his hands and turning it palm-side up, dropping the pills onto it. “ _Take them,_ ” he growled, letting the hand go and waiting. Joseph obeyed automatically, slinging the pills back and swallowing, and the grimace he made as they went down was the closest he had come to an expression so far.

Sebastian backed away to get Joseph some water when he realized the door to the room was still wide open. He pushed past Joseph with an annoyed grunt, pulling the key from the lock and shutting the door. The sound of Joseph coughing behind him stopped abruptly.

"Shit…"

Sebastian whirled around, blinking. Joseph’s back was rigid, his shoulders tense. He seem to have a hand to his mouth or chest.

” _Shit_ , Sebastian, what did I do?!” He was shaking now.

Sebastian knew better than to think the medication had just worked that quickly; Joseph must have come out of his fit. The relief at hearing him lucid didn’t outweigh the way hearing the panic in his voice made Sebastian’s chest ache, though, and he crossed the room again.

Joseph’s eyes were wet and his face was red and he was clearly on his way to hyperventilating. “I’m supposed to be okay, I have- I _have_ to be okay!”

Whatever anger had been burning in Sebastian’s gut vanished, leaving something cold and sluggish and tar-like in his veins. He just felt tired.

He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around Joseph and pulled him in, held him tight. He’d seen Joseph break down a few times now in as many weeks and it wasn’t getting any easier to witness. He couldn’t go on like this; neither of them could go on like this. He started taking steps towards the bed, taking Joseph along with him, carefully trying not to make him stumble. He’d asked his therapist about panic attacks and how to get through them, and it stood to reason that that he could use what he knew to help Joseph.

"Lay down," he said, stepping back. Joseph did, though without the dazed pliancy he’d been acting with earlier.

Sebastian might have surprised himself a little with lying down next to Joseph, but his body had started him on that course before it checked in with his brain, and if his brain was being honest he found himself not at all inclined to let Joseph go yet. He cradled Joseph’s head, searching his face. The panic was subsiding, at least.

If Sebastian calmed him down only to walk out the door again, leaving him in this limbo with his own damaged psyche for company while the rest of the world decided what to with him, Sebastian knew he’d never forgive himself. Joseph would just get worse again. Sebastian still had some doubt, some uncertainty, something like fear over all the things he’d realized in the past 6 months, but he’d said he was going to stop procrastinating on this, hadn’t he?

"Joseph," he said, meeting his partner’s eyes as best he could. "You can stay with me."


	3. 2.o

Joseph felt vaguely embarrassed, despite himself.

Moving in to Sebastian’s apartment hadn’t been much of a challenge; he still hadn’t called his sister to get his belongings from his own place back, so his possessions largely consisted of some clothes, medication and the little box of whatever from his desk at the precinct. When he started getting his things back it’d get more complicated, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. He might not even be staying with Sebastian by then, anyway.

He hoped he’d still be staying with Sebastian.

Regardless, he felt less like a man in his thirties and more like a ten year old who had to stay home sick from school, spending entire days in pajamas and trying to think of how to pass the time when everything seemed impossibly taxing. The first two days were mostly spent sleeping a lot and feeling awkward when he was awake. He was too tired to muster up feeling humiliated, but he sure as hell didn’t feel good, either.

Sebastian had called their - his - boss, the same night he had asked Joseph to stay with him. He was negotiating time off. Joseph still didn’t know what to make of that; he’d seen Sebastian take time off during the five years Lily was alive, sure, but afterwards there hadn’t been anything for him _except_ work. Joseph mentioned this in the car, once he’d worked out how to phrase “I haven’t seen you voluntarily take time off work since your life went to absolute shit and it’s confusing me” in a way that would hopefully not cause exceptional offense. Sebastian had just given a sidelong glance and said that he had other priorities for now.

Baffling.

Sebastian was in the kitchen at the moment, throwing together some sort of late breakfast, and Joseph was sitting on the couch that had lately been doubling as his bed, trying to think of what to do with himself. He toyed with the holes around the hem of the old shirt Sebastian had tossed to him last night, jiggled his foot restlessly. It was strange being in the apartment that he was told he could treat like his own, even though it wasn’t. The place wasn’t the musty, depressing mausoleum Joseph remembered from when he’d gone there before, at the height of Sebastian’s drinking, to tentatively make sure he was still alive. It actually felt lived in. Somehow that didn’t make it easier for Joseph to be there.

Theoretically he’d get used to it eventually and stop worrying so much, but for now Joseph felt like a trespasser.

He realized he was scratching at his palms, littered with their white constellations of scars, and resolutely put his hands flat on the couch, breathing deeply. Recently he had wanted to add to those marks for the first time in years, but he hadn’t, yet. The morbid thoughts and intrusive mental images were less pervasive, too, though Joseph glumly thought this might change when he got used to his new location.

He wasn’t able to stave off every compulsion that would hit him when he suddenly felt miles away from his own body, or like he’d just seen someone watching him out of the corner of his eye, or like the room he was in was suddenly far too big and swallowing him up. He’d broken two of Sebastian’s cups and had a sizable lump on his head from hitting it against a wall in a panic. He’d hyperventilated and babbled apologies and curled up on the floor and Sebastian hadn’t gotten mad, yet. Glass was swept up, ice packs were fished out of the freezer, hands were held until they stopped shaking.

Those weren’t the only sorts of compulsions he couldn’t reign in, of course. Habits he’d trained into being discreet, private, were firing off before he could even catch them. Tapping in rhythm, counting under his breath, doing things over and over in repetition til they felt right… There was no way Sebastian hadn’t noticed, though so far he hadn’t said anything. Hell, maybe he’d noticed a long time ago, when Joseph thought he had it all under control. Maybe he’d noticed everything Joseph thought he had under control.

He bit the inside of his cheek, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.

An hour at a time; a day at a time. Sebastian was a room away making what smelled like eggs, and Joseph wasn’t entirely sure he felt like eating but nonetheless he curled his fingers around the thought, held it in his hands like a real thing. He had to hold on to what real things he could make sense of, lately, like anchors. 

Sebastian was more real than the paranoid fears and assumptions that made Joseph’s stomach twist, and that, at least, was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some specifics:  
> joseph suffers from OCD  
> aside from repetitious compulsions that are exacerbated when he's stressed he has experienced morbid intrusive thoughts for most of his life  
> his father suffered the same disorder and eventually committed suicide  
> recent events that have been alluded to but not described - along with the events have TEW - have also caused joseph to experience severe dissociation/blackouts/and hallucinations  
> these symptoms have lessened but haven't gone away  
> not directly related to his mental health-joseph is gay and on the ace spectrum  
> sebastian was somewhat homophobic when joseph first met him so joseph never told him - until recently that is  
> for the record - yes seb has changed in that regard


	4. 2.5

Sebastian probably had more food in his house now than there had been in five years. The less he had to leave to get more while Joseph was, well, the way he was, the better. It was easier to cook when it was for someone else, anyway, always had been.

He’d been getting Joseph to down the occasional cracker or slice of apple so far; a slow process. Eggs and toast was a bold step up and in all honesty, Sebastian worried that even that would be rejected by Joseph’s stomach. He couldn’t live off crackers and fruit and have enough energy to get better, though. They had to take steps forward at some point.

He frowned, paused halfway through the process of reaching for a bottle of paprika he’d set out. _Would that be over-seasoning, or would the eggs be easier to down if they were flavorful_? _Does Joseph even like this stuff? Does he even like EGGS_? _Oh for fuck’s sake._ Sebastian rolled his eyes with a grunt after several seconds of indecision, snatching up the bottle. He’d season half of them, if all else fails that could be the half he’d eat. No point complicating things more than they were already.

He scraped the spatula around the pan, cutting a line between the plain eggs and the ones reddened with the seasoning. By his reckoning the eggs were overcooked, but there was no point risking eggs that were too raw just for some culinary flair. He’d make good eggs when Joseph was feeling better, if he still remembered how. It’d been a long time.

Plate the eggs, snatch toast from toaster, waffle about whether or not to butter said toast, grab the tray over butter and a knife so Joseph could just butter it his own damn self if he wanted to, grab two glasses of water because he wasn’t cruel enough to drink coffee in front of Joseph when Joseph couldn’t, juggle everything between his two hands and the bend of his left elbow, try and get the scowl he had directed at himself under control before Joseph saw him.

Joseph didn’t exactly jump when he entered rooms - every time, but he looked up with wide eyes when Sebastian rounded the corner. His eyes then snapped to the plates, and Sebastian was pleased to note that he was practically drooling on the spot. Maybe his appetite was coming back, after all.

He sat everything on the coffee table with an admittedly exaggerated look of concentration - if mugging couldn’t get Joseph to laugh yet it could at least put him at ease, right? - and sat down in the arm chair. 

“There we go. Dig in.” Sebastian picked up his own plate and fork and tried not to just sit and watch Joseph to make sure he actually started in on his own food. He kept glancing at him despite himself, saw him gingerly pick up the plate, close his eyes to smell the food. Sebastian bit his fork and forced himself to look back down.

He finally heard the noises of fork scraping on cheap, fake porcelain, and after a while Joseph spoke up to tell him the eggs were great. He resisted the urge to point out the eggs were, in fact, crap compared to what he could make, and instead just grinned and thanked him. Joseph hadn’t had real food in an unholy amount of time, maybe these eggs really were that good to him.

To his amusement, Joseph’s bites became less tentative after a short while of him probably making sure his stomach could handle them, until he was all but shoveling them into his mouth off the plate in a show of bad manners Sebastian hadn’t thought him physically capable of. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and handed Joseph a towel. “That good, huh?”

Joseph just glanced from the towel to him, and and Sebastian felt his heart sink. “I- was- I was hungry.”

 _Fuck, I didn’t want to actually embarrass him._ Sebastian softened his features as best he could, holding the towel out more insistently. “Yeah, I know. Those were the first meal you’ve had in a long time, right?“

Joseph took the towel, looking away to wipe at his face. “Yeah.”

Sebastian sat his plate down and leaned back in the chair, the good feeling the small victory of Joseph eating something with any sort of enthusiasm gave him fading, the worry he was now more than used to feeling coming right back. He had to say something to keep Joseph from stewing or- something else bad for him.

“We have plenty of food now, by the way, so if you ever want to use the kitchen go right ahead. And uh, if you want me to get something for you to make we don’t have just tell me and I’ll go buy it.“

Joseph leaned forward, tossing the towel onto the table, his expression going a little weird and unreadable. “Okay.”

Sebastian frowned. “Something up?”

“I, uh,” Joseph began, eyes still forward, not looking at Sebastian. “I actually can’t… cook. I can’t cook.”

Sebastian blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I- not for lack of trying but everything I ever made was fucking awful! So I stopped trying. Sorry.”

Sebastian noted how genuinely frustrated Joseph sounded and refrained from making another teasing remark; Joseph clearly wasn’t in the mood for those anyway. “Cooking’s not for everybody, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. “Well, i have plenty of instant things to eat so that’s alright. And we can always order out if we’re dyin’ for that sort of thing. Don’t worry about it.”

He refocused on Joseph’s face and with alarm realized it was tensing around distress; Joseph had his hands balled into fists on his knees.

“Hey, I’m serious, it’s no problem-”

“No, Sebastian, it really is!” Joseph’s voice wasn’t raised, per se, but hearing him talk firmly and clearly was about as shocking as if he’d started shouting. That strength left him as quickly as it came, however, and he slumped with a heavy sigh, looking drained again. “Sorry, it’s just, I’m already- living in your house, brea- breaking your things when I lose it and now you’re stuck cooking for me too, it’s not fair, I feel like a- a parasite.”

Sebastian sat up quickly. “Hey, no, do _not_ talk that! You’re not a “parasite”, alright, I’m the one that fucking brought you here to help you, remember? Christ…” He rubbed his head, between his eyebrows; he could feel a stress headache coming on. “If you feel that bad for not doing anything around here, you can help keep the place clean. _When_ you feel up to it. I’m not fucking around, here, you gotta stop beating yourself up for not being able to do much. It’s not any different than if- you had pneumonia, or something. If you were any other kind of sick. You… Look. Look at me.” 

Joseph hesitantly turned to look at him like he thought doing so would physically hurt somehow. Maybe it did. 

Sebastian hoped his expression was sincere as he needed it to be. “If you can tell me that I need to forgive myself for what I’ve gone through, you can forgive yourself for what you’re going through. Right? It always feels like you’re never going to get better while it’s going on but… trust me. You’re already starting to do a little better. And uh, so am I, in all honesty. Be kind to yourself.” Joseph seemed to have heard him, eyes looking down and to the side thoughtfully. Sebastian leaned back. “Besides, it feels good to have a reason to cook again. I kinda like it.”

Joseph was blinking rapidly in what was pretty obviously an attempt to not tear up, and Sebastian was glad he was way past the point of feeling embarrassed by that kind of thing. At least he was finally relaxing. Joseph cleared his throat before he spoke up, but his voice cracked a little anyway. “Y-yeah. Alright. I’ll- I’ll try to um, be… kinder to myself. Not that that’s ever come easily to me but, well. I’ll try.” He wrung his hands. “And I will try to help more when I can. I promise. I hate feeling lazy.”

“I bet, workaholic.” Sebastian said with a huff that wasn’t quite a chuckle. He picked up his plate. “And you can get seconds, by the way, the eggs should still be warm.” He didn’t linger on Joseph’s attempts to not seem too eager as he got up, and decided he’d go find something to do in another room for a little while; better not push making Joseph self-conscious about eating again.

This step forward was as wobbly as all the prior ones had been, but it seemed like they’d managed it anyway. _One step at a time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been months and I apologize! The last stretch of the semester was extremely busy, and the first month of summer wasn't much better. I can't guarantee updates will be consistent, per se, but they shouldn't be months apart again.


	5. 3.0

Joseph scratched at his face, grimacing. In the last week and a half it’d been hard enough to find the energy to occasionally shower; shaving had barely even occurred to him. Now, of course, he was a bristly mess, and the thought made him queasy. It wasn’t that he hated stubble in itself - it could even look good on some men, he thought, image of Sebastian’s face immediately springing to mind - but he hated it on himself.

And yet, even with the growing sense of discomfort and disgust, the thought of shaving seemed like a monumental effort, the razor a millstone-heavy burden. And maybe, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t quite trust himself with a razor.

As he thought about all this he stared sourly at the mug of tea in front of him, though not really perceiving it, mind going dull and blank. He felt gross, pervasively so, but for the time being he was frozen. This wasn’t a first, though it was happening a little less often as time went by. There wasn’t a lot of rhyme or reason to it; sometimes he simply felt like “he” and his body weren’t attached right. Any orders to his muscles to move were met with radio silence. He’d be more acutely annoyed if his emotions didn’t seem to be as distant and muted as everything else. The mug blurred in his vision.

Oh- someone said something, though to Joseph’s ears it sounded garbled as though it was coming from underwater. Joseph became aware that someone was standing just out of the corner of his left eye, but he couldn’t turn his head. He didn’t feel frightened… some part of him must have recognized Sebastian.

Joseph wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, or how long Sebastian stood to his left. He creased his brow trying to concentrate on moving, but all that accomplished was somehow making the process seem more alien. He did blink when a hand entered his field of view and moved the mug, and then he muzzily became aware that Sebastian was sitting down on the coffee table. His left hand was moved from where it had been; it felt warm.

Pressure - a thumb rubbing the center of his palm, making his hand curl reflexively, and the chafe of skin.

“Hey, d’you hear me? Curl your fingers.”

Joseph blinked again, now aware of how grainy his eyes felt, and complied. His fingers curled against Sebastian’s hand. He sat up straighter, eyes darting around like they were eager to move. “Oh. Uh…”

“Hi. Welcome back.” Sebastian stopped pressing against Joseph’s hand, but didn’t let it go. Probably in case Joseph drifted off again. The crease that had taken up permanent residence between his brows wasn’t looking particularly deep; this process must be getting to be familiar to him. “You alright?”

“Yeah? Yeah… think so.” Joseph blinked rapidly to moisten his eyes. “Well… I, uh- nevermind.”

An exasperated sigh, “Oh, come on, what?”

“W-well, my face is- all- hairy and I hate it, but I mean, aside from that… I’m alright.”

“That bad, huh?” Sebastian tilted his head like he was getting a better look at Joseph. Joseph tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Yeah, you could definitely use a shave. I figured you would have done that yourself, by now.”

Joseph shrugged weakly. His hand was starting to sweat; he gently slid it out from Sebastian’s loose grip. For a moment, Joseph imagined he felt Sebastian’s fingers extend out to chase after.

Sebastian watched him, expression inscrutable, before speaking up again. “If you need help, I can do it for you. It’s no problem. We do have your razor here.”

Joseph felt his face heat up, but he mustered what was at least intended to be a grin. “That so? I uh, I wouldn’t take you for an authority on shaving… just from looking at you.”

The grin turned much more sincere when Sebastian’s eyebrows flew to the heavens. “I can shave, I just don’t.” He reached up a hand like he was going to scratch his own stubble, but paused mid-motion and ruefully crossed his arms instead. “Look, do you want my help or do you want to grow out a shitty mustache?”

Joseph covered up his laugh with a hand. “Alright, alright, please help me spare the world my shitty mustache. I submit to your assistance.”

Sebastian visibly loosened up, but his tone remained mock-stern. “Damn right, you do.” He stood, bracing his hands on his knees. Joseph caught the grin on his face. “Come on, partner, let’s get you respectable again.”

Joseph followed, and felt tendrils of nerves creep their way through the burst of mirth.


End file.
